Friday, 12 February 2010

Well I just knew it! Loi d'emerdement again (see 27/10/09). I announce the arrival of spring only to find myself some 10 days later buried under 8 inches of snow, unable to leave the house, with more snow forecast. So, me being me I look around to find the wonder in my present situation. We're fortunate enough to have a 4x4 vehicle (but not so fortunate in that it's been in a garage in macon for the week) and can usually access our house in any condition. However, our guests on Wednesdays drive a car and, as such, weren't able to make it down our snowy lane. No worries- they parked in the church square at Montmelard where Mark and I met them on foot. Wrapped up in multitudinous layers with hats and scarves to boot, the two children were able to approach the house on sledges. Tramping through the snow we marvelled at the upward facing icicles clinging to the blades of grass normally tickled by the numerous water trickles that meander across the farmers fields. Plucking one of these ice pops (complete with grass centre) our friends daughter popped it into her mouth and happily sucked away as she was towed along the frozen footpaths. The sun tried it's best to shine through the gently falling snow and we wondered whether it was possible (or likely) to have a rainbow made by snow (and if so, would it be called a snowbow?) as we sat feasting on pizza and home made carrot cake we watched the birds on the birdtables. I had requested bird feeders for Christmas and had not been dissappointed (I think I had 7 at last count). What wonderful creatures birds are, so agile, so determined. To watch their colour against the snowy backdrop is a joy and to be witness to their activity is a privilege.

Thursday, 4 February 2010

I'm going to whisper this as I don't want to jinx it 'I think spring may be on it's way'. Since Tuesday we've had terrific blue skies, sun that actually warms you when you stand within it's beams, and birds chirping their little hearts out. Every Tuesday evening I spend a couple of hours with Christine, the local post-mistress, as we endeavour to improve our foreign language capabilities (hers in English, mine in local dialect French). This week we were taking a look at sayings and idioms. As I knocked at her front door I was struck by how light it still was (for 5.30) and checked my watch to make sure I wasn't an hour early. 'It's spring' she said as she welcomed me in. 'One swallow does not a summer make' I replied!! The next day, however, there were the same blue skies, brilliant sunshine and tuneful birds. Mark and I were off to meet a local photographer and entrepreneur, Roland Walrawens, who's photos I'd admired on google earth and who only lives a short distance from my home. I had left my jacket at home, was sporting my sun glasses and even turned the heating down a notch in the car although I stopped short of opening the sun roof. As Mark and I sat munching our way through a delicious chocolate cake in Rolands kitchen, the room flooded with sunlight. Roland picked up one of his many guitars and started to play 'here comes the sun'. I closed my eyes and hummed quiety along. Here comes the sun indeed.